Empire: Dawn
by stalkerace
Summary: Throughout the pages of time, few have been given the power to control the destiny of their fellow men, but it these captains of history that legends are made of. H/Hr
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it.

* * *

**EMPIRE: DAWN**

**PROLOGUE**

**Britannian Embassy **

**Madrid, Spain**

**April 21, 2004**

The young woman walking along the hallways leading the office of the Head of the Britannian mission to the Spanish Kingdom cannot help but smile as she saw the portraits that were lined up on the wall of the admittedly long hallway.

Glancing at her wristwatch, the young woman saw that there is still some time left before her scheduled meeting with the ambassador, so she paused for a few moments and stared at the portrait in front of her. With a sigh, she told herself that, like all Britannian embassies around the world, the portraits hanging from this wall are all paintings that show the history of the Holy Empire of Britannia, from her humble beginnings as thirteen rebellious colonies that nearly broke free from the United Kingdom, to the powerful globe-spanning Empire that she is today.

The young woman inclined her head slightly upward toward the portrait hanging in front of her The painting was that of a bespectacled, rather fat, relatively young gentleman wearing clothes that suggested the Age of Revolutions in the late seventeen hundreds, standing before a group of men within an orchestra hall of some kind.

_'Benjamin Franklin_,' the young woman thought with a smile, remembering the title of the work that, while not much to look at as an art, nevertheless possess such deep meaning to the history of Britannia, _'and the October Incident_'

With a wry smile, she thought back to the history lessons that she had been forced to undergo during her primary education years in Olympia College back in mainland Britannia. Benjamin Franklin was considered a hero in the former United Kingdom and Britannia, yet, the man committed suicide six months after the incident depicted in the portrait in front of her.

Sent to France to solicit assistance from the French government, Benjamin Franklin instead became a victim to a British mage in the employ of the King of the United Kingdom. One simple mind-control curse later, the American revolutionary diplomat appeared in front of the leaders of the French government and insulted them resulting to the American diplomat thrown out of Paris and banned from returning to France. He was actually lucky since France took the insults in stride, as events would prove more than one hundred years later, that not all countries take insults lightly.

With a sight, the young woman told herself that, officially, Benjamin Franklin was bribed by the United Kingdom to betray the revolutionary cause and to lend credence to that official story he was honored by the King of the United Kingdom with the peerage title of Duke of Virginia. With the existence of magic a hidden fact from the world at large, official stories were needed.

Without French assistance, the Royal Navy dominated the seas of the Thirteen Colonies, giving the British Army unparalleled lines of supply and communications as well as off shore artillery support and, should it prove necessary, evacuation by sea.

The young woman moved to the next portrait hanging on the wall. This painting depicted a man well known within Britannia, if only for the fact that he was the one who destroyed Britain, '_Napoleon Bonaparte,_' the young woman thought, again, remembering the title of the piece '_and the landings at Kent'_

Privately, the young woman thought that they should not call it 'landings at Kent'. There was no landing at all. Rather, the French soldiers appeared in English soil with the help of their goblin allies. It was these Goblins who dug a tunnel underneath the English Channel, allowing the French to cross without even getting aboard boats.

Not even the victory of Lord Nelson in Trafalgar a mere six days before the invasion would have prevented that.

The incident was the beginning of the end for the United Kingdom and, as the young lady crossed to the next portrait, the end came.

The next portrait once more depicted Napoleon, but this time, the infamous – at least in Britannia – conqueror was standing to the side as he watched King George III, the last king of the United Kingdom, sign away the sovereignty of the British Isles to France. The title of the piece was '_the Humiliation of Buckingham,_' and privately, the young woman looking at the picture thought it apt.

The next picture was by the same master who painted the preceding work of art. It was a graphic painting, showing burning ships flying the cross of St. George and civilians – men, women, and children – on fire as they attempt to jump from their burning ships. On one corner of the portrait, a non-descript woman was giving her baby to a sailor while she openly wept, and behind her, other mothers doing the same.

It was strange that such a painting that should have caused one to shed tears at the action of mothers that know that they would never see their children again had, instead, aroused such feelings completely opposite sadness.

_'The Passage of Deliverance,' _the young woman thought, remembering the title of the painting. Of all the paintings hanging along the wall, this one was probably the most famous. It had been shown to Britannian children as early as three years old when they begin their formal education and till the day that a Britannian subject dies, he would remember this picture.

The young woman knows for a fact – by virtue of having been there before – that the original copy of this portrait hangs not in the Museum of Art as the rest of these paintings, but within the private apartments of the Emperor of Britannia, a constant reminder of what the forefathers of the nation went through to build that which the Emperor now commands.

The young woman turned her attention toward the next painting; this one was a more festive painting, a sharp contrast to the somber painting preceding it. With a smile, she remembered the painting's title, '_The Foundation of Britannia_.'

The painting showed the first Emperor of the Holy Empire of Britannia as he took the crown. King George I York of Britannia vowed that he would make the Empire the most powerful nation in the world, and his descendants are more than happy to meet the promise of their honored ancestor.

Suppressing a sigh, the young woman skipped a few paintings hanging beside the ones that she had already commented on. These paintings, in her opinion, are not as powerful as the ones that came before it or the ones that came after it in showing the history of the Holy Empire.

Instead, she stopped near the end of the exhibit, and once more inclined her head toward the picture hanging. It was quite strange that a portrait showcasing a simple ship launching would be afforded a status of being important to the history of the Holy Empire, but the young woman knew that appearances can be deceiving.

_'The Launching of HMS Dreadnought,'_ the young woman thought, remembering the title of the piece. With a smile, she told herself that this incident was infinitely more important than the deal with Russia that saw Britannia acquire Alaska, the annexation of Hawaii in 1898, the defeat of Spain in the Britannian-Spanish War of 1897, or the completion of the Panama Canal in 1909.

The launch of the revolutionary ship saw Britannia as the leading naval power in the world. It was a title, however, that had been attached to the Empire even before the Empire was founded. _HMS Dreadnought_, however, allowed Britannia to lay claim not only to the seas, but also, the skies above those seas. With assistance from the magical research – not that they were given credit publicly as they do not even exist – and development groups working with the Royal Navy's Department of Naval Engineering, _HMS Dreadnought_ gained the ability to fly.

It was of such a revolutionary design, the Prussian Empire – having completed the unification of Germany in 1895 – launched their own dreadnought-class battleship three years later in 1909, while the French Republic – newly defeated by the Prussians in 1895 as part of Prussia's successful unification of Germany – launched theirs in 1911.

Of course, it did not really help the French Republic. In 1915, Prussia – reacting to an insult from the French – declared war against France. Clearly, the French were hoping that the Prussians would take the insult lying down much like what they did with Benjamin Franklin many years ago, but the Prussians are not the French.

In the decisive first war of the twentieth century, Prussia's dreadnoughts – now having no need to return to the sea to replenish, being almost exclusive air-cruisers – destroyed the unprepared French fleet in a series of battles. Without their fleet, the French armies are barely able to hold their lines.

As if the woes that they are facing against the Prussians are not enough, Britannia decided to intervene. With a smirk, the young woman turned her gaze toward the next portrait, '_Righteous Dawn,_' she thought, and once more, the title was apt.

The portrait showed the ships of the Imperial Airfleet – the institution that replaced Britannia's Royal Navy and Army – as they supported the landing of Britannian Marines along the west coast of the British Isles.

After three years of hard fighting and more than a hundred years of waiting, Britannia once again controls the British Isles.

The smirk on the face of the young woman did not disappear as she regarded the next portrait. The title of the painting was '_The Treaty of Dublin'_. It was to France as the Treaty of Buckingham was to Great Britain, the beginning of the end.

The portrait features the face of a man that the young woman knew very well, though he was younger in the painting. Britannia's current Emperor, George IV Henry York, watching as the President of France surrender control of the British Isles.

Of course, the Treaty of Dublin, while it ended the war between Britannia and France, did not end the war for France and Prussia. No treaty ended the war between France and Prussia, simply because France no longer exists by the time that the war ended. A complete annexation of France followed and Prussia became the undisputed master of the European Continent.

Stopping before two empty spots, the young woman fought the urge to sigh. Though these spots are empty right now, she knows exactly what paintings would be placed on them for future generations to show. The first would be a portrait of the Imperial Airfleet launching their invasion of mainland Europe, and the last would be a portrait of Britannia's leaders watching as the Prussian Kaiser signs a dictated peace treaty.

A proud, but worried, smile came across her face at the same time that the door to the office of the ambassador opened. Replacing the smile on her face with that of a neutral expression, the young woman watched as trade envoys from the Spanish Kingdom bid the Britannian ambassador farewell.

With a sigh, the young woman took a step forward as she cast one last glance toward the empty spots on the wall. History lessons, she would admit, had been a personal favorite of hers when she was still in school, but when one's loved ones are the ones making that history, one cannot help but worry for their safety.

Inhaling, she mentally said one prayer, a prayer meant for those loved ones who are currently fighting for Britannia, before she headed to the office of the Britannian ambassador.

**ONE**

**Aboard Shuttle 7A, **_**HMS Iron Duke**_

**Wilhelmshaven, Prussian Empire**

**April 21, 2004 AE**

Britannian and Prussian warships stared at each other defiantly, their cannons advertising the defiance of the men aboard the floating ships in the sky. At the surface of the earth, the city burned fiercely, the result of one too many naval shells missing their target.

Burning hulks littered the surface, some crashing into dry land, leaving tell-tale marks on the soil just how hard those landings must have been, others, rested on the surface of the water, their buoyancy keeping them afloat despite the fact that those ships are, in every sense of that word, dead.

Judging from the flags flying from some of the hulks, it was obvious that both Britannian and Prussian warships died here, but little to almost no attention was being paid to these burning hulks, indeed, to the seemingly dozens of bodies that littered the surroundings of the wrecked ships, as thunder rumbled overhead their burning wrecks.

It was artificial thunder as the great guns of the floating warships continue to rumble on, fed from within their armored turret houses with seemingly inexhaustible supply of shells and cordite charges.

Ships continued to maneuver, their skippers responding to instructions from those higher in them in the chain of command in an attempt to gain the best possible firing position against the enemy even as their stabilizers worked overtime in an attempt to keep the giant behemoths from overbalancing themselves as their great cannons stamped their presence in the field.

Seated directly opposite the only window in the cabin of the Type 7 shuttle used to ferry men between ships and in opposed boarding missions, Harry James Potter fought the urge to both close his eyes as he watched Britannian fighter aircraft wrestle with Prussian fighters and to check his rifle one more time.

If he had gotten it his way, he would not be carrying a rifle at all, and he was sure that he and a crack group of ten to eleven members of the elite but supposedly not supposed to exist KG31 can take down the battleship that they are heading to without any problems, but the Commanding Officer of the Britannian Grand Fleet – the de-facto commander of KG31 – had ordered that KG31 is to remain a secret 'unless events force our hand into revealing the unit'.

Fighting back the urge to sigh, Harry found himself wondering exactly what his liege lord – for he and his family is a sworn vassal of the Duke of New York, commanding officer of the Grand Fleet – meant when he said those words even as the shuttle pilot banked hard in an attempt to evade something.

Tiny knocking sounds from the starboard side of the shuttle confirmed to Harry that the pilot was not that successful in that endeavor. Those tiny knocking sounds, Harry knew, are the rounds coming from anti-aircraft guns hitting the outer shell of the shuttle, but the twenty four year old KG31 commando seconded to the Royal Marines also knew that the Prussians are using thirteen millimeter machineguns as anti-aircraft guns, not large or powerful enough to pierce through the outer armor of a Type 7 shuttle even if they had proven effective against Britannian aircraft before.

Turning his attention to the cavernous interior of the shuttle, he tried to note the grim faces of the forty nine other men who are seated with him in a parallel fashion on the sides of the shuttle. Like Harry, every single man inside the interior was wearing the khaki uniform of the Royal Marines, and like Harry, they are also armed to the teeth, though unlike the twenty four year old Lieutenant Commander, none of these men have the capability to wield magic, as it is officially called by the Britannian government.

With a mental sigh, he wished that he could convince his liege lord to declare the existence of magic to the world at large, but at the same time, Harry knew just how hard and troublesome that would be. His father had once told him that one of the reasons why the magical world decided to hide is because people would always want a magical solution to all their problems. That, more than the witch hunts, convinced the original signatories to the Statute of Secrecy that the magical world is best left off isolated from the rest of the world.

Of course, much as the original signatories would have wanted it, it was not that simple. In the end, the non-magical government had to be told and a truce was reached between the two sides, a truce that both sides broke less than six months later though none actually called the other on it.

It was not that difficult to imagine Mages – as the people from the magical world are referred to – crossing over and deciding to work with the non-magical government instead. The parents of Harry Potter are just two in tens of thousands, probably hundreds of thousands, who cross over every year, and from that number, a small sampling had been collected and recruited into the elite KG31.

Harry was recruited into the unit years before he finished his primary magical education, and the fact that both his father and mother were working for the government had nothing to do with the offer. It was, more than anything, his performance in his first semester in Olympia Magical Academy that brought him to the attention of the man who would later become his liege lord.

A sudden jerking motion of the shuttle in response to a maneuver that the pilot forced it to go through – no doubt in an attempt to evade incoming fire once more – tore Harry out of his reverie. Unconsciously, his right hand grabbed a handle bar running from top to bottom beside him, forgetting that he was strapped on his seat and would not have been thrown off even if the shuttle were to roll upside down.

Once more, tiny knocking sounds were heard coming from the outside of the shuttle as the ballistic armor of the shuttle defeated the armor-piercing rounds being fired by the anti-aircraft batteries. This time, however, there was a response from the shuttle and the tell-tale chainsaw like sound of the mounted twenty millimeter cannon of the shuttle buzzed through the ear of Harry as if it was an annoying bee that came too close.

Aware that the only reason that the shuttle is firing is because they have reached their target, Harry allowed himself to glance at the window and was not surprised to see the battleship gray steel hull of a Prussian warship just a few meters off of the shuttle side. With a sigh that he did not even know he just did, Harry told himself that this is it, this is the warship that they are supposed to take over.

The shuttle that he and his men were riding circled the battleship once, destroying the anti-aircraft batteries that could be used to mow down the Marines as they come of the shuttle. Once that was done, the shuttle pilot maneuvered the shuttle so that the rear end of the shuttle was just a meter above the freeboard of the ship.

Harry sighed once more even as he pulled the charging handle of his SA80 assault rifle. At the same time, he pressed the quick-release button on the lock mechanism of his shuttle harness, releasing him from the safety device that connected him to the interior of the shuttle. As he did so, he once more wished that he does not have to carry this infernal rifle with him wherever he goes.

He was rated as being very good with the rifle, but he had no doubt that his rating would be excellent if he would only use his magic. Still, appearances must be maintained.

All around him, the other Marines followed his lead, chambering rounds on their weapons as they pulled the charging handles of their weapons. The white light coming from the dozen or so bulbs inside the shuttle interior was dimmed and turned to red, signaling the passengers to get ready.

Responding to the light signal, the Marines pushed themselves on their feet and off of their seats and formed two straight lines facing the ramp. As was benefitting a commander trained with KG31, Harry was at the lead of one line while his second-in-command, a Marine wearing the three bars of a Lieutenant on his uniform, was at the head of the other line.

There was an almost ominous rumbling sound as light from outside began to filter into the cavernous interior of the shuttle. The drop down ramp located to the stern of the shuttle opened slowly as if it was taunting the waiting men, and add to that is the fact that the opening of the ramp created a sound that most people would have found irritating. Like most Marines, however, Harry was largely immune to it.

The ramp was barely open at full before the light inside the shuttle turned green, signaling the marines to charge out of the shuttle. Harry raised his left hand and motioned for the men in his line to follow him at the same time that his second did the same.

Almost running, Harry hit the wooden deck of the Prussian battleship first. He had to negotiate the barely-opened ramp, forcing him to jump from more than two meters up. He very nearly landed on his face, but he was able to roll his body across the deck perfectly and come out of the shuttle in a prone position in less than five seconds, scanning the perimeter for any approaching Prussian sailor.

Behind him – and he did not even need to look at them to know this – his men pulled themselves out of the shuttle even as the ramp continued to slowly – and irritatingly – open.

Fifteen seconds later, the ramp was fully open, but by this time, there was only one or two marines left in the interior and they easily pulled themselves out of the shuttle, joining their marine brethren on the deck of the warship even as Harry directed the Marines to their assigned targets.

"Empty," the loadmaster – or jumpmaster as he is sometimes called – of the shuttle shouted toward the direction of the cockpit. In response to the report, the ramp began to slowly close, but the pilot did not wait for the ramp to fully close before he applied as much power as he could on the engines of his shuttle. A few moments later, the reason for that became evident as two Prussian Vampire fighters – their bow mounted thirty millimeter cannons spitting stars toward the direction of the shuttle – streaked through the sky.

Harry hurriedly ordered his men into the superstructure of the Prussian warship – those Vampire's might be air-superiority fighters but their pilots are known to strafe infantry caught in the open, and they are rather efficient and deadly with that as well – even as he watched the two Vampires chew the unfortunate shuttle.

Harry actually caught the jumpmaster as the unfortunate man suddenly sported a hole in the middle of his body before he went limp and fell face first into the open air. He was actually a bit lucky as the moment that he fell of the shuttle, it exploded into a thousand pieces, falling into the sea below.

"Come on," a voice from the side of Harry tore him from his reverie. He fought the urge to curse as he realized that he was the only one caught in the open and the two Vampires are banking hard right, returning their attention at them.

Bullets started to hit the deck of the Prussian warship even as Harry started running toward the open door in the superstructure of the Prussian warship where his men were waiting for him. When he was sure that he would reach the door, he threw himself off of his feet and launched himself headfirst into the open hatch.

Two of his marines caught him even while another closed the steel hatch. Tiny knocking sounds on the door confirmed that the marines were able to close the door just a few moments before murderous thirty millimeter rounds would have killed a great many of them.

Helped to his feet by his men, Harry murmured a quick thank you to the two men who helped him before he surveyed the area. Having not been aboard a Prussian warship before, he had no idea where they are right now, and he was sure that his digital map of this place – issued to him mere moments before he and his men piled into the now destroyed shuttle – would be of no assistance.

Thinking about the shuttle made Harry aware of another problem that he is now facing, and he asked himself that question, _'How in hell are we supposed to get out of this dump that we are about to blow if we do not have a shuttle to use?'_

Shrugging, he decided that he would worry about it later. He motioned for his marines to gather around him and the men – obedient under fire – followed his instruction without question.

Even though Harry was aware that these men had been briefed about their mission a few minutes before they entered the shuttle that delivered them here, Harry saw no harm in reminding the men exactly what they are doing here in the first place. Turning toward the senior non-commissioned officer in the squad assigned to him, Harry gave him a nod before he said, "As you all know, our objective is the Number two boiler room aboard this warship," and again, Harry wished that he knew where they are right now so he can show his men the most direct route to their objective, but if there was one thing that was drilled to him in the Imperial Naval Academy – where he went after graduating from Olympia – it was that no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy.

With that knowledge, Harry knew that he and his men would have to make do.

"Other teams are making their way to other targets," Harry told his men, "and if all goes well, this dump would be blowing itself up from the inside"

"Sir," one of the junior enlisted called for the attention of Harry, causing Harry to turn his attention toward the Private. The questioning look on the face of Harry was a clear indication to the young private – '_He looks younger than me,_' Harry thought to himself – to ask his question, so that was what the young man did, "How are we going to get out of here sir?" the Private asked, he jerked his head toward the direction of the exterior of the ship, "Our shuttle had been destroyed"

"We'll worry about that later," Harry said, trying to reassure his men. He paused for a few moments before he added, "Maybe we'll borrow one of the Prussian shuttles in this ship, but right now, let's worry about getting these charges in place"

Privately, Harry thought that he could just disapparate off of this ship, but since he is sure that he is the only one among the Marines sent here who could do that, that would be the last option. He truly does not want to leave any of his men behind.

Reassured by the words of their commander that they are going to get of this dump, the Marines nodded enthusiastically. They did not move out right away, however, as the men began to take stock of their equipment.

The team that Harry has under his command was composed of seven men, Harry included, and between the seven of them, they have two light machineguns for suppressive fire, and five SA80 assault rifles, with assorted ammunition. As he is the only officer in this fire-team, Harry was the only one carrying a sidearm. Three of the seven men in his section are carrying enough explosives to disable a turbine – three of which power this particular battleship that they found themselves in – another one was carrying a radio while another was carrying a medic kit, though in a close quarter battle like this, Harry doubts that it would see much use.

"I'll be the first to admit that I have no idea where we are," Harry said. He motioned for his men to form a line and move out – senior non-commissioned officer on point – "but we'll feel our way through"

Barely thirty seconds have passed before Harry and his squad found themselves under fire. A couple of Prussian sailors armed with a heavy machinegun that they scrounged up somewhere was guarding one of the tight corridors of the ship and shooting at anything that moves. Harry nearly got himself nicked by one of the bullets, but his staff sergeant was sharp and pulled him into cover before that could happen.

Fighting the urge to curse, Harry grabbed a grenade from the webbing of his blouse. Removing the pin, he looked at his men and said, "Count to three after the explosion then lay down suppressing fire," though privately, he thought that that would not be needed since the grenade would probably kill the Prussian defenders.

With an economy of movement, Harry pulled the pin of his grenade and threw it toward the direction of the Prussian sailors. For his trouble, the defending sailors fired a quick burst toward his direction, but Harry was fast enough to avoid the bullets. The same cannot be said as to the defending sailors who were cut down by the flying shrapnel that resulted from the explosion of the grenade.

A few might have been alive even with the explosion, but that was neither here nor there, as after counting down to three, Harry and his squad emerged from their cover and fired suppressing fire from their rifles toward the direction of the unfortunate Prussian sailors.

Less than five seconds later, eight Prussian sailors were dead and Harry with his squad was running toward the direction of the number four turbine of the ship. The squad had to pause twice during their run in order to get their bearings straight and to check for injuries when the great guns of the Prussian dreadnought opened fire with a massive broadside, rocking the ship, though not beyond the capability of her automatic stabilizers.

With a grim smile, Harry reminded himself that he had sent a squad to knock out the stabilizers as well, but regretted the fact that he did not do the same for the turrets. With only five squads, however, there was little choice and, in any case, one only has to disable the crew of the turrets in order to prevent them from firing. The same cannot be said for the turbines and the stabilizers, or the magazine for that matter.

Gunfire was still echoing all around the ship as the infiltrating Britannian marines cut a swath through the defending Prussian sailors. Harry and his squad came across a squad of Prussian marines who were taking too long to get ready – their G36 rifles missing magazines – a few before both the Prussians and Britannians had to pause in order to check their bearings in response to the main guns of the Prussian dreadnought firing again.

The Prussians took advantage of that, rushing the Britannian squad before they can recover and Harry found himself holding his ground using his fist against a Prussian marine who was probably twice as heavy as him and whose fighting stance suggested that he was a boxer.

Using his peripheral vision, Harry watched as his men fought hand-to-hand against the Prussians, and, for his inattention to the man in front of him, nearly had the knuckles of his opponent for lunch. Fortunately, he was able to evade – _'I knew those sparing matches with Kevin and Kyle would result to some good,'_ he thought, thinking about two of his friends whom he left behind aboard _HMS Iron Duke_, their flagship – and lash out with a straight left toward the left temple of his opponent.

While his blow struck, it would appear that it did not do much damage since the huge Prussian marine did not even move his head. With a mental expression of incredulity, Harry asked himself, _'Are you kidding me?'_

The Prussian marine smiled at Harry as if he can read the thoughts of the young wizard. Of course, that would be impossible given that Occulumencary does not work on Harry, having the best set of shields among the officers and men of the Britannian Grand Fleet.

With a huff, the huge Prussian Marine grabbed Harry's extended left hand and pulled him before flipping Harry using some sort of judo move that saw Harry flying across the entire length of the hall. Had he not hit his back on the far wall of the hallway, Harry was sure he would have been thrown out of the ship. Still, hitting the far wall was not as easy as it sounds and for a few moments, Harry feared that he might have damaged his spine.

Further worries about that, however, had to be postponed as Harry saw his opponent charging him like a bull that had seen a red cape being waved around by Harry. Knowing that he cannot win a fist fight with this rather large Prussian marine, Harry decided to cheat, and he waved his hand in an intricate fashion, creating a portal in front of the surprised marine whose forward momentum was so great, he cannot stop himself even if he wanted to.

He entered the portal that Harry had made and found himself three hundred feet in the air a few moments later without a parachute to help him with his fall. The fact that he was over water did not help his cause at all, and no matter how physically powerful he was, he died the moment that his body broke the surface of the water.

Harry knew that he was not supposed to use magic for this mission, but his sense of self-preservation demanded that he use his magic at that moment. He knew that he would not survive a fist fight with that Prussian sailor and besides, with most of this own men engaged in boxing matches of their own, he doubted that they had seen what Harry did with his opponent.

Harry knew for a fact that the man that he just banished would not be telling anyone anything about what Harry did to him.

Pushing himself on to his feet, Harry turned his attention toward his men. A few of his Marines were holding their own against their opponents, though it would appear that the reason for that is more of the fact that the Prussian Marines that they are fighting are not the champion boxers that their other comrades are fighting.

Scanning the floor, Harry saw his rifle a good thirty meters or so away from him, and he knew that he would be intercepted by one of the Prussian marines before he could reach the weapon.

Instead of running for his rifle, Harry drew his sidearm and started to shoot the Prussian Marines that were beating his men. For a few moments, everyone in the area – save for Harry, of course – thought that the firing sounds that they were hearing were coming from some other area.

By the time that the Prussians realized what was happening, four of Harry's men had already picked their rifles and had shot the remaining Prussians. One of Harry's men – the private who asked how they would get home – had been beaten so bad, his heart had already stopped by the time Harry and the others had cleaned up.

Having wasted enough time as it is, Harry ordered one of his marines to pick up the bag of their fallen comrade – the boy was an explosive carrier – while he pulled hard on the boy's tags. Fighting back his emotions in an effort to maintain his professionalism, Harry closed the eyes of the boy at the same time that his squad resumed their mission.

Fifteen minutes – and fourteen dead men, including one more Britannian marine – later, Harry and his seven remaining men burst into room containing the number three turbine of the Prussian warship. As was expected, there were still Prussian sailors inside the room, including some stokers who were shoveling coal into the open furnaces of the boilers that were feeding steam into the turbines.

For a few moments, the Prussian sailors had no idea that Britannians are in the room with them, but they reacted at the same time that Harry and his men announced their presence in the room by opening fire with their rifles. Not a few escaped the first volley, and those that did were all injured, which meant that there was little that they could do to stop the Britannian marines from planting their explosive charges.

That does not mean that they did not try, however, and Harry, with two others, found themselves in the unenviable task of shooting Prussian sailors trying to stop their comrades from doing their job using shovels and their fist.

Five minutes – and more than forty dead sailors, none of them Britannians – later, Harry gathered the remaining members of his squad and fought their way to the deck of the Prussian warship. Along the way, the young marine commander promised that he would think of a solution to their next problem, getting off this ship that is about to lose her number four boiler room. If things go according to plan, that was not the only thing that she was going to lose.

After running through several decks for the next eight minutes, Harry and his squad opened a door that was supposed to be sealed shut during combat stations leading to a position amidships of the great Prussian battlewagon. Judging from the view, Harry was sure that they are at the starboard side.

Further thinking was interrupted, however, when they heard the sporadic gunfire coming from the stern of the Prussian ship, and Harry quickly motioned for his men to follow him at the same time that he thought of finding a way to liberate one of the shuttles of this ship so they can use said shuttle to return to _HMS Iron Duke_.

At the stern of the Prussian battleship, however, Harry found his surviving marines hunkering down whatever cover they could find as they exchange fire with Prussian marines that have arrived via shuttle. It would also appear that the shuttle that they used was still there with her rear ramp open since she cannot discharge all of her marines with the deck filled with hostiles.

"We're taking that shuttle!" Harry proclaimed as he led his men to support their pinned down comrades.

As Harry spoke in Britannian, he was not expecting a response coming from the direction of the Prussians. He had already turned his attention away from the Prussian Marines that were deploying from the interior of the Prussian shuttle – a standard DF-7D shuttle that was actually better than the Britannian Type 7A as they do not have slow moving ramp exits – when a loud voice coming from the direction of the Prussians forced him to return his attention toward that direction, "Over my dead body!" the loud voice proclaimed.

Harry instantly recognized the voice and fought the urge to curse. There are very few people in the world that can make Harry lose his temper just by existing, and as he heard that hated voice, he realized that the fates must really love him because they just threw one of those few people in the same deck of a ship as him.

With a worried frown, Harry also realized that meeting one of his former classmates from the Olympia Academy of Magic fighting for the other side means that this encounter is going to turn into a magic duel, something that the Duke of York and the Britannian government had been trying so hard to avoid.

Draco Lucius Malfoy shoved people out of his way in his quest to place himself in front of this column of Prussian Marines. It was not an easy feat for the blond Prussian aristocrat – throughout the five hundred or so years that the Malfoy family had existed, they had been French, British, and now Prussian aristocrats through carefully arranged marriages – as the Prussian Marines that were accompanying him betrayed no liking for him – and here, Harry would have laughed as he realized that even Prussians have no love lost for the Malfoy family – but, nevertheless, he was successful in that endeavor.

Like Harry, Draco was wearing a generic military uniform – in the case of Draco, he was wearing Prussian Gray battle-dress but was not sporting a rifle, though Harry espied a Luger-type pistol holstered on his side, and he doubted that Draco could use the weapon – but unlike Harry, Draco looked as if he had been forced into that uniform. He certainly looked as if he is on the parade ground rather than a battlefield.

Fighting back the urge to sigh, Harry forced himself to refrain from thinking about the history that he and this Prussian marine officer in front of him – like Harry, Draco was wearing the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Commander, though Harry asked himself if Draco earned that rank or if his father, the Prussian Minister for Magic according to the latest reports coming out of Prussia, had bribed someone for the commission.

Harry and Draco had first met when they were eleven years of age and since then they had been at each other's throats. A lucky man by any standard, Draco was educated in the prestigious Olympia School of Magic, the magical counterpart of Olympia College, arguably, the most prestigious secondary school in the world.

Taking advantage of the relative thawing of relations between the Holy Empire of Britannia and the Prussian Empire, Lucius Malfoy used his considerable influence within the Prussian government to secure one of the allotted ten slots for Prussian citizens to enter the Olympia educational system. Draco had been the only magical to take the offer.

Not that Draco did not make a name for himself in Olympia, he just would not use his brain that much, believing the magical-supremacy beliefs that his father had fed him since he was young. It was an attitude that nearly saw Draco kicked out of the school every year – the administration does not tolerate racism inside campus grounds, hence, what happened to the _other_ man whose mere presence can send Harry to a frenzied state – but the blond was good in toeing the line. It did not stop most of the professors in the Academy from looking for other ways to expel the 'Prussian traitor' as he was known.

Cursing, Harry remembered that Draco has a tendency to rely too much on his magic – and the half a dozen encounters that he and Harry had since they graduated from Olympia was testament to that – which will prove troublesome since Harry has instructions to not allow the Marines that he is accompanying know that he is magical, unless circumstances warrant it.

The fact that Draco is going to engage him in magical combat would probably qualify as qualifying circumstances, but it rankled Harry that he would still have to break the first part of his instructions just because an old school rival developed a grudge over Harry picking the girl who would later become the woman he would someday marry over him.

"Did your parents like the gift that I sent them?" Draco asked a few moments later, a sneer on his face.

Harry's expression darkened at that. In his capacity as commander of the military police in Normandy, Draco had personally executed and mutilated – he had the body drawn and quartered – a member of the Imperial Intelligence Agency stationed in Normandy before he had the remains sent to James and Lily Potter. The agent was an old friend of the elder Potters and the actions of Draco advertised the fact that he knew.

"I'll kill you, you bastard," Harry replied behind gritted teeth, momentarily forgetting that as commander of this lofty detachment of Britannian Royal Marines, he was supposed to be setting an example for his men, even if his men curse more colorfully than he is capable of.

For a response, Draco smiled, but before the blond Prussian can say anything else, Harry took to the offensive, "I have to ask," Harry said, placing his own smirk on his face, "How is your father and his leg? I want to know since my godfather and my father have a running bet on who gets to break the _other_ leg."

Draco snarled and reached for his wand. Harry let out a loud curse at that as he told himself that he should have seen what his idiot of a classmate would do the moment that his father was threatened.

"Everybody down!" Harry screamed – in English.

Draco drew his wand in one swift motion – a lot of things, most of them unflattering, can be said about Draco, but the blond Prussian was still a student of Alex Craig, and the man was a monster when it comes to pushing his students in Advance Combat Magic – before he sent out his most powerful _bombarda_ spell hurling toward Harry.

Harry, however, is also a student of Alex Craig, and the former Royal Marine had imparted a knowledge or two to Harry and his then best-friend, now fiancée, Hermione Granger, during their private meetings that he never bothered to tell the class – apparently, having Draco in class rankled the man. At the same time that Harry drew his wand, he muttered an incantation and summoned a shield to surround him and his men.

As powerful as the _bombarda_ spell that Draco unleashed was, when it comes to magical potential, not a single soul who had graduated from Olympia Magic Academy can match Harry's.

Glancing toward his second-in-command, who was sporting a very confused expression on his face, not that Harry could blame him, really, Harry ordered in a low voice so that Draco could not hear his instruction, "Lieutenant, take a few marines and secure us a way out of this ship that is going to sink in a few minutes," when his second-in-command failed to give any indication that he had heard Harry, Harry shouted, "Lieutenant!"

The young marine – he was probably older than Harry by a few years actually – seemed to have been shocked by that. After a few moments, he gave a nod toward the direction of Harry before he signaled for the unit that he had accompanied during the planting of the demolition charges to accompany him. For good measure, he brought another two squads with him, leaving Harry on the deck with less than twenty men to support him.

With magic having been revealed, however, there was no longer any need for Harry to hold himself back. He knew that he could take on an entire battalion of Prussian Marines – with armor and air-support – even if is not using his full power.

"I really do hate you, Draco," Harry muttered under his breath before he pointed the business end of his wand toward his old school rival. He had to admit that he did prefer using his wand more than any rifle. Gathering his strength in this spell, a sharp gust of wind blew around Harry before he screamed with all his might, "_Deprimo!_"

The look on the face of Draco was comical – to say the least – as he watched a sharp gust of wind blow its way toward him. He fired a quick sticking charm on his boots in order to prevent him from losing his balance and falling off of the deck, but sadly, his men did not think of the same, not that they could anyway seeing that none of them are magical.

At least a dozen or so of them were carried by the artificial guest of wind off of the deck. Like the Britannian Marines that Harry was leading, however, the Prussian Marines – with the exemption of Draco – were all wearing parachutes just in case they found themselves thrown overboard. Draco turned toward the direction of the men that he was supposed to be leading and caught sight of a few of his men being thrown overboard, not that he planned on helping them anyway.

With a snarl, Draco returned his attention to Harry. Bringing his wand to bear, the young Prussian commander sent a cursed cutting curse hurling toward Harry, but Harry was aware of what Draco was thinking and managed to evade the curse. Without a target, the curse just continued to fly, eventually hitting an exposed pipe on the deck of the ship and cutting it as cleanly as if an industrial saw had run through it.

Harry fought the urge to curse aloud at the stupidity of his old classmate. Granted, Harry realized that there was nothing that he could do about it anymore. Magic has been revealed to the world at large – and Harry does not imagine that the light show that he and Draco were exchanging with each other would not have been seen or videotaped by the gun cameras of the fighter aircraft that were circling this about-to-be-stricken battleship – now they have to deal with the aftermath of that revelation.

A bright red jet of light erupted from the tip of Draco's wand at the same time that a bright blue one erupted from the tip of Harry's wand. The two jets of light attracted each other and for a few moments, the Britannian and Prussian marines were treated to a sight of two opposing forces manifested by a red and blue light trying to push each other.

Draco knew that Harry has almost limitless potential, but he also knew that the heir to the Potter family cannot use his full potential unless he is given time to access that well.

Taking that into consideration, Draco knew that he must end the duel as fast as possible – and he is aware that the nature of his magical reserve was the reverse as that of Harry, meaning, he in any duel between the two of them, he would be stronger than Harry, but would weaken over time. For his party, Harry was also well aware of that fact. Common sense dictates that he should wait until he can access his full reserves, but common sense also dictates that he must disengage from this duel as soon as possible because this ship is about to lose not only her stabilizers and guns, but also her turbines, the same turbines that power the anti-gravity device that holds this thirty two thousand ton dreadnought steady in the air.

That was the reason that Harry decided to end the light show, rolling to his right in order to evade the spell that his opponent had sent. He recovered easily and from his crouching position, Harry fired a volley of six powerful stunners toward Draco, who reacted a bit sluggishly, but reacted nonetheless.

All six stunners missed their intended target, but only two of them did not hit anything, as four unfortunate – and some would argue, foolish or stupid – Prussian marines refused to even move when they saw the jet of red lights heading toward them. The four marines were knocked unconscious before they even knew what was happening.

Not that Harry – or Draco – can see that, since Draco counter-attacked almost at the same time that he evaded, firing a volley of five spells – two disarming and a three stunners – toward Harry, who reacted by summoning a shield to block all five curses at the same time that he asked his opponent in a mocking tone, "Are we playing here?" At the same time that he closed his mouth, Harry upped the lethal rating of their duel by firing four cutting curses toward Draco that were supposed to miss, driving the Prussian commander into a narrow imaginary box where the _sectumsempra _curse that Harry had fired two seconds after the last cutting curse was headed.

Knowing that he cannot evade the incoming curse, Draco did not even bother. Instead, he summoned one of Harry's marines and used the man to block the incoming curse. The unfortunate marine screamed in pain as the lacerations appeared all over his body, though the Draco ended his suffering by firing a spell that caused him to burst into flames.

Harry just stared at the marine that he had just killed as he was consumed by flames, but mentally shook his head, telling himself that he can regret that later, right now, he has to show Draco his place. With deft foot work, Harry placed himself at the left hand side of Draco, who was reacting slowly once more.

"_Expulso!"_ Draco yelled, his wand pointed not toward Harry but toward an empty space in the deck of the ship. The jet of red light hit the deck before a portion of the deck splintered into a thousand pieces that flew everywhere. From the moans that echoed around the deck after the spell ended a few moments later, the fact that Harry managed to summon a shield charm to surround him did not mean that the same thing could be said about those who are watching.

Harry cursed aloud once more – thankful that his fiancée was nowhere near the field for he knew that she would take offense with his lack of control of his tongue – before he snarled and pointed his wand toward the direction of Draco.

Harry removed his shield and fired a powerful bone-banishing curse toward Draco, who reacted by firing another explosive charm toward Harry. The two curses once more met at the middle, but this time, Harry did not even bother to wait for another light show to begin before he rolled to the right. Finding himself to the left of Draco once again, he yelled, "_Reducto!_"

Draco jumped in response to the curse, which resulted to the jet of light missing him completely and hitting one of the barbettes housing one of the seventeen-millimeter anti-aircraft machineguns of the Prussian battleship. The curse was so powerful a good portion of the half-an-inch thick steel shattered into a thousand pieces.

Draco landed on his feet with his wand pointed toward Harry and he yelled, "_Avis_!" quickly followed by, "_Oppugno_." The first spell caused hundreds of tiny mockingbirds to materialize from the tip of Draco's wand, while the second caused the conjured mockingbirds to rush toward Harry and his men in an attempt to attack them.

Harry banished the conjured mockingbirds easily enough, and, while concerned for their safety, was aware that his men are more than competent to deal with the conjured birds seeing that they have assault rifles on their hands. It did not even take a moment after Harry banished his attackers for his men to open fire with their rifles. Conjured objects stood no chance, literally, with the scything bullets coming from the muzzles of the assault rifles in the hands of the Britannian marines.

The Prussian commander snarled back and also lifted his wand in order to point its business end toward Harry. The two of them were thinking of the next curse that they would send toward the other – something that their instructor, and they had the same instructor, would have frowned at had he known, seeing that Alex Craig drilled them to fire first, ask questions later in this type of duel – but before they can even think of anything to do, both of them had to place sticking charms on their boots in order to prevent them from losing their balance as explosion after explosion ripped the interior of the dreadnought that they are riding on.

"What the hell?" Draco managed to ask – in English, precluding most of his men from understanding him and making them look at him with contempt.

On the other hand, Harry grinned triumphantly. That grin, however, faded a little when he realized that they are still on the boat. The moment that this thing dies, it would drop to the earth and few would be able to survive even if they were to deploy their parachutes, mostly because they would not have the time to deploy their parachutes anyway.

'_Where is that shuttle?'_ Harry asked himself as he turned to look at the remaining Royal Marines who stayed with him. Most of them were hugging the ground. To their credit, they did not appear resigned that they would die on this boat, but Harry knew that that was because of the training that were instilled on them.

Another explosion announced its presence with a loud bang, and this time, the aft turret of the dreadnought was actually thrown from its position and was blasted several meters into the air before it dropped back on the deck of the ship, causing the ship to lean backward and to list to one side in reaction.

At least two of the Prussian Marines who were on the deck slid overboard as a result of the sudden shift of the ground that they were standing on, and the only reason that no Royal Marine slipped was because most of the Marines grabbed on something, some of them even deciding that it is better to lose their rifles than not hold onto something.

At that moment, one of the Prussian shuttles resting on the boat deck of the battleship roared to life, signaling to Harry that his second and his squad was successful in their objective to liberate a shuttle for their use. For a few moments, Draco stared at the shuttle taking altitude in front of him dumbly, as if he had been rendered mute.

Suddenly, he felt someone tackle him to the ground and would have cursed the man – even if it was a Prussian who is under his command, and it was – had he not realized that the man actually saved him. Bullets fired from the hanging weapons pod of the Prussian shuttle whizzed past the head of Prussian marines who hugged the ground even as the attacking shuttle moved forward, dropping her rear ramp to the deck of the stricken battleship in order to take on the Royal Marines.

With a signal, Harry ordered his Marines into the cavernous interior of their liberated shuttle, and personally made sure that he was the last Britannian off of the vessel. He did manage to look toward the direction of Draco and saw that the Prussian commander was also ordering his men back to their own shuttle – again, a lot of things can be said about Draco, most of them unpleasant, but there is no doubt that he is a smart, smart boy – probably realizing what Harry and the marines had done.

"Next time, Potter!" Draco shouted realizing that Harry was looking at him.

Harry did not even bother to reply, stepping into the interior of the shuttle and ignoring the looks that his men were giving him. He knew, of course, why they are looking at him like that. To them, he had just performed something that they had always known is impossible.

Heading straight to the cockpit of the shuttle, Harry found two marines operating the liberated Prussian shuttle side-by-side – something that the Britannian Navy frowns upon, preferring that their pilots sit behind the gunner – and took the headset offered by the gunner.

The fact that they had gotten out of the about-to-sink boat – and at that moment, the stricken Prussian dreadnought finally lost power and her gravity stabilizers failed, sending her straight to the ground and crushing the dry dock that she fell on – did not mean that they are out of the woods just yet.

Harry has to take this shuttle back to the boat deck of the flagship of the Britannian Grand Fleet, something easier said than done, but, ultimately, something that they could do easier had they been in a Britannian shuttle. Unfortunately, this is a Prussian shuttle, and anything Prussian approaching the flagship is going to be shot down by one of the four Wraith fighters operating as combat air-patrol centered on _HMS Iron Duke_.

With a Prussian-made headphone resting above his head and a boom containing a mike near his mouth, Harry was dialing numbers in the radio set in front of him with desperation despite his outwardly calm demeanor. His left eye was not straying from the distance indicator or the radar screen that was mounted on the middle of the console in front of the two pilots and he mentally told himself that if fails to contact the flagship, those slowly counting down numbers could mean the counting down seconds left in their lives before their own jets blast them out of the sky.

"_Iron Duke, Iron Duke,_" Harry tried again, coming across the last frequency number given to him by Lord Alexander himself before the General-Admiral of the Britannian Grand Fleet allowed him to take the marines out for an opposed boarding mission, speaking straight into the mike hidden by the boom that was a mere two inches away from his mouth, "this is Lightning Bolt," – thinking about it, Harry remembered how he hated his radio call-sign, but it was given to him by his classmates in Annapolis, so he very well cannot complain about it – "how copy, over?"

Fighting back the urge to sigh in relief, Harry heard the familiar voice of the air-traffic controller stationed aboard _HMS Iron Duke_ reply to his query, "Lightning Bolt, _HMS Iron Duke_ copies you loud and clear," the controller replied, there was a brief pause before the controller added, "Lightning Bolt, please standby for Iron Duke-one actual"

"Where are you?" Lord Alexander – commander of the Britannian Grand Fleet and Harry's liege lord, having sworn an Oath of Allegiance to the man when he was just twelve years old – asked through the radio without even a greeting, "Radar reports that _SMS Mackensen_ went down because of internal explosions, but they also report that I've lost one of my shuttles, so where are you?"

"Approaching the flagship, Your Grace," Harry replied, mentally smirking as he imagined cringe from the other side of the connection. The Archduke of England absolutely hates using royal honorifics whenever they are on the battlefield which, Harry had to admit, was the reason that he insists on using them in the first place. Harry continued, "We have liberated a Prussian shuttle and approaching, but we might get ourselves shot down over here"

"Considering that you deliberately disobeyed my standing rule never to call me 'Your Grace' when we are on the field, I am highly tempted to let the Wraiths shoot you down," Lord Alexander replied, there was the tell tale sound of the Archduke sighing before he continued, "But I don't want your marines to suffer for your mistakes," there was a pause before Lord Alexander continued, "I've already signaled the fighters to let you in, Iron Duke out," and just like that, the connection was terminated.

Harry smiled before removing the headset from his head, handing it over to the marine pilot before the young marine commander returned to the hold of the shuttle where his marines are waiting. Fighting back a sigh, Harry noted that while he has more than half of his original numbers before he started the boarding action, he still lost some men, and the twenty four year old wondered if he would ever be blessed with the fate to lead an action without losing at least one man.

A few minutes later, two Britannian Wraith fighters pulled up on either side of the shuttle, their pilots pulling on their engines at the slowest possible speed without stalling as they escorted the captured Prussian shuttle toward the flagship of the Britannian Grand Fleet.

Harry moved to the front of the shuttle to watch, and as always, he found himself in awe whenever he sees the big battleship that serves as the flagship of the Britannian Grand Fleet. Harry had to bite back a sigh of awe as he stared at the proud and majestic Britannian dreadnought cutting through the sky.

More than two hundred eighty meters long and nearly thirty nine meters wide, the _Duke_-class battleships of Britannia – of which _HMS Iron Duke_ is a part of – grossed at more than seventy two thousand tons. Inside her, a crew of two thousand eight hundred men – the size of a small city – kept her operational, and at any given point in time, more than a hundred sailors and officers are in her engine rooms, operating one of her eight boilers feeding power to one of her four turbines or at duty at weapons station, prepared to fire the main battery – twelve sixteen-inch fifty-caliber breach-loaders – or the secondary battery – twenty five-inch fifty four-caliber dual purpose guns – against enemy targets. In addition, gunners man the anti-aircraft guns of the ship – numerous smaller caliber anti-aircraft guns – ready to destroy any approaching aircraft.

With a top speed of twenty eight knots and armor eighteen inches thick, she is fast enough and strong enough to serve as fleet flagships. There are only five _Duke_-class battleships in existence – and only three more are planned – and of those five, two are with the Grand Fleet, _HMS Iron Duke_ and _HMS Black Prince._

The two Britannian marine pilots – Harry knows for a fact that both men are not really flyers, they are foot soldiers, but needs must – carefully lined up the shuttle close to the boat deck of _HMS Iron Duke_, but a signal from one of the crewmen standing on the boat deck – he was waving his hands in a no-entry fashion – forced the two marines to instead park the shuttle beside the quarter deck of the Grand Fleet's impressive flagship.

"Sir," the pilot said, forcing Harry to turn his attention toward the pilot, "We are not allowed to land on the boat deck, High Admiral York himself is ordering me to open the ramp and allow the marines to unload on the deck before scuttling this shuttle"

Harry nodded, "Of course he would do that," Harry muttered under his breath, careful not to appear as if he is insulting the commander of the Grand Fleet too much. Aside from his numerous titles – including heir-apparent to the Britannian Throne – Lord Alexander is respected by his men. It would be a painful day for anyone who would think to insult the Archduke within earshot of his men.

"Come on," he said, returning to the hold of the shuttle just as the pilot opened the rear ramp. Harry signaled for his men to follow him as he led them onto the deck of _HMS Iron Duke_ where sailors greeted them with cheers of appreciation. A few moments later, the two pilots emerged from the shuttle, just a minute before the shuttle lost power and dropped to the surface of the water.

Deck crew helped the Marines unpack their gear, and quite a few of the Marines dropped to the deck as if dead, exhausted by what they had just gone through. For a few moments, Harry wanted to join his men lying on the deck, but as the commander of the unit – and indeed, Harry saw that some of his officers remained on their feet – Harry had to stand on his feet. He has to report to the commander of the Britannian Grand Fleet, and he knew that it cannot wait, especially if he is to report to the man that one of their greatest secrets – a secret that the two of them had kept along with a few others – has been revealed to the world.

Signaling for his junior officers to take care of the mess, Harry walked toward an open door on the side of the superstructure of the ship and sighed. As the flagship was located several kilometers behind the battle, she was running at Condition II rather than I, which would account for the relaxed atmosphere around her.

Returning the salutes offered to him by the junior officers that he passed on his way to the bridge was not something that Harry wanted to do, but he cannot just ignore the courtesy being offered to him. He also had to salute the officers senior to him whom he passed on the relatively narrow hallways of the flagship.

It took him ten minutes to move from the boat deck to the bridge of the ship – climbing eight decks up in the process – and as Harry expected, the armored bridge was not sealed, compromising the armor protection that surrounded one of the most important part of the ship.

An armed Marine was standing at parade rest to the side of the door of the bridge and he did not move the moment that he saw Harry – normally, a marine on guard would salute – but Harry ignored the breach of courtesy. The man was on duty and he was required to not move while on duty.

Walking into the bridge proper – unlike most of the bridge crew, Harry did not have to duck in order to fit himself through the relatively narrow door – Harry was unsurprised to see the commander of the Britannian Grand Fleet standing on the edge of a plotting table, with his senior officers surrounding him.

Bringing himself up to his full height – which was not considerable, much as Harry would wish it otherwise – Harry walked toward the plotting table where his commander and liege lord was waiting.

Lord High Admiral Archduke Sir Alexander Charles York, Archduke of England and Belleview, Prince of Wales, Duke of New York, Cornwall, York, and Montana, General-Admiral of the Britannian Grand Fleet, lifted his head up as soon as he heard Harry enter, allowing his young vassal to realize that he was wearing his glasses.

Seeing the horn-rimmed glasses covering the eyes of his liege lord made Harry cringe. The Archduke of England – Lord Alexander preferred that title over his other titles, even the more prestigious Archduke of Belleview – is stern and tough, a strict disciplinarian who also has a perfectionist side, but whenever he is wearing those glasses, it was as if a devil had possessed him.

When he is wearing those glasses and he wants something, then the person who had been asked to give whatever that something is to him better have that something five minutes ago.

"Commander," Lord Alexander said, nodding toward Harry. The other members of the senior staff turned their attention toward Harry and gave him welcoming nods as well, though Harry stopped himself from returning their greetings.

Before Harry can say anything, Lord Alexander cut him off by raising his hand, "I am sure that you and your men would appreciate the rest, so go take it," he paused for a few moments, and Harry caught him shake his head subtly, the only indication that he knew he would receive from the man to indicate that the Archduke was thinking along the same lines as him – they are going to get kicked in the ass with the revelation that magic exists – before the General-Admiral added, "We'll need to talk before the debriefing, and I simply do not have the time right now," before he turned toward his chief-of-staff, Vice Admiral Kevin Francis Cline and started barking orders.

Knowing a dismissal when he sees one, Harry saluted the General-Admiral, but did not even wait for his commander to acknowledge the salute before he executed a perfect about-face and walked out of the bridge.

Once he was out of the armored bridge, he let out a sigh before he glanced back toward the direction of the armored bridge. He knew that the reason that Lord Alexander postponed the debrief was because the Archduke was trying to think of something to cover the fact that magic had been revealed, and Harry respects him for that, but he was of the opinion that it was already too late to cover up, now they would have to do damage control.

Another sigh escaped from the lips of Harry as he glanced toward the ceiling of the top-most deck of the Britannian Grand Fleet flagship. Sometimes, he wondered if he would be having these problems if his parents had not decided to defect from Magical Britain to Britannia.

**P13A611 OPERATION HERMIONE Page 31**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it.

* * *

**TWO**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Scotland, British Isles**

**October 17, 1981 AE**

The sound of raised voices were carried by the howling wind even as the old – not to mention odd – looking gentleman who was seated at the head of the table maintained a calm exterior look. This was despite the fact that inside, he was boiling. It was only his iron will and self-control that prevented him from jumping to his feet and casting an area-wide silencing charm in order to silence the whole room.

Turning his attention toward one side of the argument, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class, and defeater of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald cannot help but feel disappointment as he saw the ringleaders of this group.

Turning his attention to the other side, toward the other side of the argument, the one hundred year old Headmaster – he was born in 1881 – remarked to himself that he should not have been surprised by the fact that he already knew who was on the other side of the argument.

At one hundred years of age, Albus Dumbledore was regarded by many as the most powerful warlock in the world – a claim that the Headmaster himself perpetuate by two means, by denying the honor and by secretly supporting those who are perpetuating the rumor directly. At a hundred years of age, his former auburn hair had turned silver while his white beard was so long he actually has to tuck it in his belt whenever he stands up, lest it starts to swing back and forth like a necktie whenever he walks.

Born in a small village located – quite literally – in the middle of nowhere, Albus Dumbledore was the eldest of a brood of three and came to this world while the British Isles was still under the control of France. Like all magical children born in the British Isles, he went to Hogwarts at the age of eleven and graduated at the head of his class, but he never had the time to take advantage of that fact as by the time that he graduated, he found himself as the head of his family after the death of his parents.

Albus was thirty four when the French and the Prussians went to war over a single missing vowel in a five hundred word letter. He was thirty six when Britannia launched Operation Righteous Dawn and planted the banner of the Holy Empire in the British Isles, reclaiming the territory of their ancestors.

He was eighty six years old when the boy that he himself had picked from an orphanage and hoped would become his protégé decided to rebel against the magical government and establish a society composed purely of magical people.

Fighting back a sigh that threatened to escape from his lips, the Headmaster of Hogwarts forced himself to focus all of his attention in the ongoing argument between two of his followers, James Potter – the Head of the Potter family, one of the most influential and powerful families in the whole of magical Britain – and Molly Weasley – wife of Arthur Weasley, head of the Weasley family and one of the most ardent supporters of the Headmaster – continue their verbal joust.

Not that Molly was winning, she was actually on her way to losing, but since this argument was about the well being of the Potter family, there was nothing surprising about Molly losing the argument.

In hindsight, the century-old Headmaster thought to himself, he should have known that Molly would try to inject herself in the affairs of House Potter. She had and would always have an irritating habit of poking her nose into messes that she has absolutely nothing to do with.

The Headmaster need not even open his ears – having sealed them the first time that Molly started speaking, because even if Molly is one of his most ardent supporter, the woman was very loud – in order to know that his two supposed followers are arguing about the latest move of the enemy that the Order of the Phoenix is fighting against.

Fighting back a sigh that threatened to escape from his lips, the Headmaster of Hogwarts was forced to consider the irony of the situation. '_The Order of the Phoenix,'_ he mused. Ostensibly founded in order to fight against the Dark Lord Voldemort following his rise to power in the late sixties and early seventies, the Order is supposed to be the only thing that was standing between the Dark Lord Voldemort and total victory.

The true story, however, of the founding of the Order was longer and darker. Albus Dumbledore was not the founder of the Order, for the Order had existed even before his great grandfather – whose contemporaries included Elizabeth I of England – was born.

The Order of the Phoenix that existed right now is composed of two groups, a small public face – and here, the Headmaster looked at the people around him, telling himself that these people compose the public face of the Order – and a larger, more secretive group.

It is that larger group that is aware of the history of the Order, and they have been told that the real Order of the Phoenix was never founded, for the real Order had existed since time immemorial, when the first mages desired their own country. Formal organization came in the year 1515 AE, however, after unknown Mages published a pamphlet that became universally known as Utopia.

The pamphlet, named after a book written by a man whom the muggles – as the Mages refer to non-magical people – canonized a few years after his death, called for the organization of a country primarily for those with Magic. It did not call for the complete separation of the two worlds, however, as the authors are aware that without the muggles, magic would die.

Albus Dumbledore is a sixth generation member of the Order of the Phoenix and its mother organization, Utopia. Mentally shaking his head, the Headmaster told himself that Tom Marvolo Riddle – better known by his moniker, Lord Voldemort – is also a member of Utopia, and his Death Eaters are nothing more but his Order of the Phoenix. Of course, the members of the Order of the Phoenix – the public face – and the members of the Death Eaters are not aware of this fact.

Not that it would help in the ongoing magical civil war being fought between the two factions, however, as Lord Voldemort had clearly strayed from the teachings of the Pamphlet. A small sigh escaped from the lips of the Headmaster as he told himself that his protégé's past experiences with the muggle world had influenced him and convinced him that the continued survival of the magical world depends on the complete destruction of the muggle.

If not for the fact that he was in a public – relatively – place, the Headmaster of Hogwarts would have started shaking his head. Much has changed since the time that Voldemort had left the muggle world for the magical. Advances in technology had ensured that even if it was Voldemort himself who is in the field, there would be little that he could do.

After all, not even the supposedly immortal Flight from Death can escape the damage that a single eighteen-inch breech loader could wreak, and Britannia, Albus knew, would not hesitate in using those cannons, especially if Britain – their homeland and the supposed location of the Utopia of Mages are located – is to be threatened.

Albus knew that, hell, everyone knew that. Britannia has lost the British Isles once; they would never allow it to happen again.

Softly inhaling as if to consolidate his strength in the coming battle, the verbal joust between James Potter and Molly Weasley – with both being edged on by the other members of the two camps – came to a complete and abrupt halt as they – and the others – turned their attention toward their supposed leader.

As Albus had suspected, there was a look of respect – perhaps even reverence – on the face of Molly. It was a look that was repeated on the face of everyone that was in her camp. That look of respect was a sharp contrast to the neutral – and almost hostile – look on the face of James Potter and those that are firmly in his camp. It was unfortunate, but amongst those who are firmly in the camp of James Potter are two very powerful families, the Black Family – led by heir-presumptive and supposedly disowned Sirius Black – and the Longbottom Family – led by Frank and Alice Longbottom and whose numbers included one of the most formidable personalities in Magical Britain, Augusta Longbottom, the unacknowledged leader of the moderate traditionalists, a minor but powerful faction within the Wizengamot, the Magical Parliament.

Fighting the urge to sigh, the Headmaster of Hogwarts thought to himself that he should have seen it and should not have been surprised with the camp that those two families had taken. Sirius Black, after all, was and is the best friend of James Potter from school, while Alice Longbottom and Lily Potter – wife of Frank Longbottom and James Potter respectively – had the same relationship when they were in school.

"All this fighting would not lead us anywhere," the Headmaster said a few moments later. He pretended not to see the nods of agreement coming from those that are firmly in his camp just as he pretended to not see the looks of frustration and scowls on the faces of those that are in the other camp. In any case, he believed what he had just said, all this fighting between the members of the Order are not going to get them anywhere, especially not now when one of his spies from the Inner Circle of the Dark Lord itself had warned him of the next move that his former student was going to make.

Turning his attention toward James Potter and Frank Longbottom, the headmaster fought the urge to scream at them to drop their pride and accept help and assistance from the rest of the Order to protect their families, but the Headmaster suspected – perhaps rightly so – that even if he were to scream at both men as if they are nothing more than his students, it would not do any good.

The two patriarchs of two powerful families are so set in their ways. Normally, Albus would not fault their single-minded determination to protect their families using methods that only they and the members of their families are aware of, but these times are far from 'normal'.

"I would agree with that Headmaster," Lily said, politely inclining her head toward the direction of the headmaster as she said that. "And precisely because of that, I think that James and Frank are within their rights to insist that we are best protected within the wards of our own manors," she let out a sigh that conveyed just how frustrated she was, though Albus suspected that the frustration that Lily was feeling has nothing to do with the problem that they have right now.

The suspicions of the Headmaster regarding the source of frustration that one of the most intelligent muggle-born witches to ever graduate from Hogwarts came true a few moments later when the beautiful red-head suddenly said, "I never really placed much stock on prophecies, Headmaster, so even if assuming that your so-called prophecy would come true, nothing would get pass the defenses of our own manors"

"but that would mean that you would be out of contact," Elphias Doge – a contemporary of the Headmaster from Hogwarts and a member of the liberals within the Wizengamot – said, once more bringing up the original topic that started the verbal joust between James and Molly. The old wizard turned his attention toward Lily before he added, "We cannot send reinforcements should You-Know-Who ever manage to penetrate your defenses"

Lily had a look of irritation on her face – something that came from the fact that she cannot understand the irrational fear that most witches and wizards have in connection with the name of Lord Voldemort – and she was not the only one. Though she cannot see it – mostly because he kept it within him – Albus Dumbledore was also wearing a look of irritation.

The Headmaster cannot believe that his old classmate would actually be scared of the name of Tom Riddle, not when Elphias Doge was considerably older than the so-called Dark Lord.

Nevertheless, since his old classmate had put up the obvious – never mind that James and Molly had been arguing about that particular subject since about half an hour ago – Albus decided not to call Elphias on the mistake. The Headmaster knew that there was nothing that he could do about it anyway.

"Elphias speaks the truth, Lily," Albus suddenly said, forcing all the attention to turn toward him once again. Playing the benevolent grandfather to everyone in the room, the Headmaster added, "My spy assures me that he is targeting your two families and while I agree that your wards would be powerful, they are not a guarantee that Lord Voldemort" – he pretended to ignore the flinch coming from almost everyone in the room – "cannot enter your homes, you might need reinforcements, and as we do not know where your manors are, by the time that we get there, you could all be dead, if we could get there at all"

For a few moments, Albus argued with himself about the propriety of casting mind-control spells – or even using subtle legillimancy to plant compulsions deep within the minds of the Potter's and the Longbottom's – but decided against it. Not only would he have a tell, he is liable to get himself blasted to the nearest wall for his troubles, and he knew that even his powerful legillimancer skills would not do him any good.

James looked ready to argue, as did Lily and Frank, but Alice appeared to be converting to the thinking of the Headmaster. Albus smirked from behind the neutral look on his face. He always knew that Alice would be the weak link in the united front that the Potter's, Longbottom's, and Sirius Black are showing.

"Frank," Alice said, forcing her husband to look at her with a questioning look in response to hearing her say his name, "I think we should take the safe houses"

"Alice," Frank began. James and Lily looked as if they were not too far off from joining the protest – Sirius was mostly there in silence since he is not directly involved, he just followed James – but Alice cut them off by shaking her head.

Turning his attention toward James, Alice said, "James, I know you do not want to trust information coming from unmarked and unnamed sources, but what if the intelligence that the Headmaster presented was real?" she asked rhetorically, her expression took a more serious tone, as did her voice, before she asked, "Are you willing to risk your family over that?"

James bit back a harsh reply – and here, Dumbledore reminded himself that nothing would make James snap faster than implying that he does not care about his family – as he felt the hand of his wife on his shoulder. Lily was warning him – without words – that Alice is still her best friend and that she would not tolerate James insulting her no matter the circumstances.

"Headmaster," Lily said, evidently, instead of replying to the rather hurtful questions that came from Alice, she decided to resume questioning the Headmaster instead. Seeing her former Headmaster looking at her, Lily asked, "How sure are you with this information?"

Albus sighed, "Very sure, Mrs. Potter," he replied. He saw the look of hesitation on the eyes of the young woman and decided to add one more statement that he really thought would be enough to convince the two families that the spy that made the report has a lot to lose, "My spy passed on the information because he has everything to lose if your families are to be attacked by Lord Voldemort"

James and Lily turned their attention toward each other, surprised by that statement. They were hardly the only ones who looked at each other, since Frank and Alice followed suit a few moments later. Even those on the other side of the Order – Molly and Arthur amongst them – turned their attention toward each other in surprise.

"What is that reason, Headmaster?" Lily suddenly asked, she shook her head before she added, "How sure can we be that the spy truly has everything to lose if our families are to be attacked?"

_'Oh Lily, I wish I could tell you,'_ Albus thought to himself. He, however, had sworn an oath to the man who had delivered this information that no one would ever know that he is working for the light side. Revealing his real intentions in giving this information to the Headmaster would mean that the Headmaster would be revealing the name of the spy.

He might not say the name, but the reason would be more than enough to identify him.

"These safe houses that you are providing, Headmaster," Frank suddenly said, "How secure are they?"

Lily turned her attention toward Frank and tried to glare at him, but the Longbottom patriarch pretended not to see her. Lily was irritated that Frank decided to return the conversation to the security arrangements, during a time when she was still questioning the motives of the spy that passed on the information.

"I would place every available ward, protection scheme, and spell in the houses to make them secure," the Headmaster replied, secretly glad that the conversation has returned to this topic. Lily, if she puts on her mind to it, can make anyone sing.

"No guards," James suddenly said, and like Frank, he pretended not to see the irritated scowl on the face of Lily. Unlike Frank, however, James knew that he would suffer for his actions later when he and his wife are alone, "They are practically announcing to the world our location"

Albus nodded, "No guards," he agreed. Truth to tell, he was of the opinion that even placing the most powerful members of the Order to protect the two safe houses would not be enough, and since there would be two safe houses to protect, the Order would be run ragged.

They cannot suspend all of their operations just because of the Potter and Longbottom families.

"_Fidelius_?" James suddenly asked, his attention toward the Headmaster.

Albus nodded, agreeing that that was probably a good charm for a first line of defense, "Might as well be," he agreed, for a few moments, he paused before he asked, "Who would be your secret-keeper?"

Lily and Sirius turned toward James but kept their mouths shut, signaling that they would defer to him on this decision. James acknowledged the deferment, but did not any outward acts. Instead, at that moment, he turned his attention toward the Headmaster and said, "Forgive me, Headmaster, I would like to keep that a secret"

Albus nodded, fully understanding what James was saying, even though those members of the other camp of the Order who are firmly in the camp of the Headmaster looked outraged. Privately, Albus thought that the precaution of James was to be commended.

Just as the Order has spies within the organization of the Dark Lord Voldemort, so does the Dark Lord Voldermort has spies in the Order, a spy that, for all the mind-reading skills of Albus, cannot be identified.

Turning his attention subtly toward Sirius, the Headmaster told himself that there was no need for him to know who the secret-keeper of the Potter family would be, the relationship between James and Sirius practically guarantees that it would be the Black heir.

Even Albus had to admit that it was a masterful stroke, since Sirius is the godfather of Harry, and that meant that the man cannot do any overt acts that would see Harry harmed. Certainly, betraying James and Lily to the Dark Lord Voldemort can be construed as harming Harry, but because Harry _is _the target, Albus just cannot see any way for Sirius to betray his old friends.

"Probably for the best," Albus replied, he turned toward Frank, expecting the auror captain to give him who their secret-keeper would be, but he was not the least bit surprised when Frank also declined to give him a name.

As with James and Lily, there was no need for Frank to give the Headmaster a name. The only logical person that Frank and Alice would chose would be Franks's mother Augusta. The unofficial leader of the moderate traditionalists would not be a tough nut to crack, even if it was Lord Voldemort himself who would be doing the interrogation.

"Very well," Albus said, he nodded toward James and Frank before he said, "Before we adjourn, I would like to go over some other security arrangements with all of you," and with that, the meeting descended into more arguing and talking as the supposed leader of the Order watched the arm that he always thought would bring about the Utopia that his ancestors had dreamed of into a reality.

**Order of the Phoenix Safe House, Godric's Hallow**

**Wales, British Isles**

**October 31, 1981 AE**

James stared incredulously at the wealth of information that was lying in front of him. There was a certain order in the way that the documents – the information having come from the goblins, who have long abandoned using parchment in favor of cheaper and more modern paper – are arranged in front of him, despite the fact that most people would claim that the papers are disorganized.

It was hardly surprising that a first-time observer would comment that the sheets of paper in front of James are disorganized, because they have been thrown by James in seemingly random manner – and hence, have landed in the surface in front of him in a seemingly random manner – and they appear to have been combined in one disorganized jumble.

The truth, however, was that if one has the time to check on the at least three mountains of paper that have grown in front of James and resting on the surface, one would be able to see that there was actually an organization behind the way that the Potter Patriarch had been throwing reports coming from the Goblin bank.

A soft sigh escaped from the lips of James as he unconsciously turned his gaze toward the ceiling. The house was provided by the leader of the Order, Albus Dumbledore, as he claimed that the house was better protected than Potter Manor.

Personally, James cannot comment on just how 'better protected' this house is from Potter Manor, having never seen how the wards that are surrounding this house works first hand, but he can be sure of one thing, this house was just a fraction of the size of Potter Manor.

Mustering all the attention that he could muster, the head of the Potter family forced himself to return his attention on the papers in front of him, but even as his gaze slowly left the white ceiling, James found himself asking just how badly he had erred into allowing himself to be misled by Albus Dumbledore.

The nature of the lies that Albus Dumbledore had used to misled James has nothing to do with James believing that the Dark Lord is going after his family. James was sure that the Dark Lord is going after his family, it was only logical, after all, he and Lily had fought the Dark Lord in three separate occasions, and despite the fact that they were never able to defeat him, they were able to check him long enough to allow the two of them to live.

Most people would not even make it pass one, but like James and Lily – and Albus Dumbledore, of course – there are two other people who had fought against the Dark Lord and had survived. Those two others are from another couple who also have a newborn son.

Consequently, they also have to go into hiding following the prophecy that the Headmaster was so convinced would happen. That other couple, of course, are the Longbottoms.

Without him even realizing it, James slowly shook his head as he found himself wondering if Frank and Alice – or just Frank – had already discovered that real nature of the Order. A soft sigh once more escaped from within James as he realized that the answer to that is probably in the negative.

Frank and Alice – fearful of the safety of their child – had hunkered down in their safe house and was following the instructions of Albus Dumbledore to the letter, which meant that the two are, in essence, incommunicado.

It was not that James was not fearful for the life of his son and wife; it was just that he was of the opinion that not having enough communications with the outside world is a bad thing. For all they knew, the light side could have fallen while they were in hiding here, still dependent on the fact that they are covered by a powerful charm that was supposed to hide them.

Of course, in the case of James and Lily – or Frank and Alice, for that matter – if the light side had fallen, then they would not be safe. That was probably one of the reasons why James insisted on having contact with the outside world as he knew that if the light side falls, then that would be the time to flee.

They cannot stay in this hovel for long since the death of the Secret-Keeper would mean that everyone who knows the location would automatically become Secret-Keepers, increasing the chances that they would be discovered. Worse, the people living within the bubble brought about by the _fidelius _would have no idea that their bubble had been destroyed.

James and Lily would not know that the enemy is coming in the worst case scenario.

The letters to the outside world also allow James to keep in touch with his best-friend, Sirius Black. Sirius has now entered his final stages of preparation to go into hiding and was planning on leaving the British Isles altogether, taking advantage of the fact that his family has a vacation house in the Baleares Islands – the Kingdom of Spain has always been neutral and would allow anyone to enter their territory, muggle or magical, so long as they do not cause problems within their borders – to disappear from the British Isles.

A smile came across the face of James – one of the few that had appeared on his face since this packet of information that arrived from the goblins in response to his request for information came – as he remembered the look on the face of his old Headmaster when James told him that they would keep the identity of their Secret-Keeper a secret.

James knows that Albus suspects that the Secret-Keeper is Sirius – an illusion that was further reinforced by the notion that Sirius is going into hiding – removing suspicion from the least obvious – and therefore, the most obvious – candidate as Secret Keeper.

Peter Pettigrew, another of James and Sirius's old friends, was not made of the same material that make up James and Sirius – or Remus Lupin, their other friend, for that matter – but James and Sirius believed that he was a true and loyal friend. With the suspicion that most members of the Order have for Remus – him being a werewolf, increasing the chances that he is the spy that the Order has been trying to dig out since the beginning of the year – the choice of either Peter or Sirius made more sense, and since Sirius is very obvious, anyone with half a mind could probably tell that Peter is the Secret-Keeper.

Shaking his head, James realized that choosing Peter as Secret-Keeper comes with its own brand of risks. If the Dark Lord is smart – and his actions had always portrayed him as being smart – then he would know that the least obvious choice is the most obvious choice. If Peter is captured, the man would probably spill his guts, and with only the memory of his friendship with James and Lily would stop him, not exactly the best way to stop someone.

Aware of this, James planned for a contingency. His right hand unconsciously touched a small envelope resting on one corner of the surface in front of him. Even without James opening the envelope, he was aware of the contents.

It had arrived – together with this packet of information – this morning. This was James Potter's back-up plan. Inside the envelope are two passports and other necessary documentation that would allow James and Lily to leave the British Isles for greener pastures in mainland Britannia.

Of course, the wealth of the Potter family meant that they could afford first-class cruise ship tickets to travel to any part of the world, but James chose Britannia for a reason. The large interior of the mainland offered them better chances of disappearing.

Shaking his head slightly, James realized that fleeing to mainland Britannia would mean that, for a few years at least, the family would not have access to the Potter family vaults hidden by Gringotts. Mainland Britannia – owing to animosity – had not allowed goblins in the mainland since they were founded. In fact, the only reason that goblins are allowed in Britain in the first place – despite being Britannian territory – is because the Emperor and his government decided that evicting them would be more trouble than it is worth.

Returning his attention to the pile of papers in front of him, James sighed. Fighting the urge to bang his head on the nearest surface – which would be the surface in front of him, of course – James realized that, in hindsight, he should have known.

Organized magical groups all have connections, no matter how slim, to an organized group that was trying to bring about a separate country ruled by Mages in the British Isles, Utopia.

When he was young – barely in his Hogwarts years – James had been told by his father as part of his training regarding that organization. As with all Ancient and Noble Families, the Potter Family had supported Utopia in the past, and James suspected that his father had supported that organization as well.

James, however, had formed his opinion on that particular struggle long before his father had taught him about the Organization trying to bring about that particular struggle. James had witnessed the power of the muggles and he knows that if the two worlds were to ever collide, the non-magical world would have the advantage.

Their technology evens up the field with magic, but magic cannot resurrect the dead – and even if it could, it would still be useless anyway – and the non-magical world, with their numbers, would have no need to resurrect the dead. It would be a bloody struggle and, in the end, the victory of the non-magical world is certain.

Having read non-magical history before he even came to Hogwarts, James was also aware that there is no way that the Holy Empire of Britannia would give up Britain – and Britain is the designated Utopia that the organization named after that goal was fighting for. With the largest fleet in the world, the Holy Empire would rather destroy these isles than relinquish it, and given the fact that Britain occupies a strategic location, James was sure that Prussia – the second-largest Empire in the world – would gleefully join their Britannian rivals to take care of any mage problem.

What pisses James off more than anything, however, was the fact that this packet of information clearly illustrates that Albus Dumbledore was siphoning off money and other valuables to his own personal vaults.

Unconsciously, James grabbed a ledger that was from among the pile of papers in front of him and opened it to the first page. The Potter Family, the Black Family, the Longbottom Family, and countless others have marked a steady decline in contents since those families joined the Order. As they are goblins, the goblins investigated this rather unusual phenomenon and discovered that not only was gold being transferred to the Dumbledore vault, the transfers are happening without the permission of the vault owners.

For this reason, James had already ordered his vaults to go to lockdown and was in the process of warning Sirius and he heads of the other families. Pushing himself up to his feet, James located a pen and paper – like the goblins, he had long ago abandoned the use of parchment and quill for the cheaper and easier to use pen and paper – and was about to make his way there when he heard a sudden noise coming from outside the safe house.

An auror of considerable experience, James instantly recognized the sound that echoed from outside the house as belonging to that of a standard apparate. A smile came across the face of James, aware that there are only a few people who would visit and prepared to greet them.

He was already on the door before he paused as he suddenly saw the distinctive dark robe and snarl of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Instantly, coldness crept up the spine of James as he realized that the Dark Lord has came calling.

His first instinct was to shout and warn his wife to take Harry away while he tries his best to hold off the Dark Lord. He paused, however, as he realized that that would be the worst action to take. James was under no illusion that he can take the Dark Lord on his own, he needs the help of Lily, and with that, instead of running out of the house to meet the Dark Lord on his own, James ran toward the direction of the main staircase of the house just as the hinges holding the front door to its frame was blown away, a powerful _bombarda_ curse having made impact with it.

Cursing even as he heard the sound of the cries of his son – probably alerting Lily that something was wrong as well – James jumped the first four steps to the second floor of the house before he turned around and drew his wand.

The Dark Lord entered the house with his trademark scowl, prepared for James to face him, but the head of the Potter has no intention of facing the Dark Lord. Instead of sending a spell toward the direction of the Dark Lord, James activated the passive defenses of the house, transforming all the furniture inside the house into deadly animals that are programmed to attack and slow down the Dark Lord, before he resumed running to be with his wife and child.

Before he could reach the top stair, however, his insides froze as he saw a sight that he prayed he would never see. His initial thought was that his old friend had been tortured into revealing the information regarding where the Potters are hiding.

James knew that there was a chance that Peter would give up the information voluntarily, but James always hoped…shaking his head, he told himself that there was nothing that could be done about it anymore.

It was now obvious that Peter was the spy that had informed the Dark Lord about past operations of the Order that had led to casualties. With a start, James realized that that meant that they chose the worst possible person to be their Secret-Keeper, but as with the information about the spy, it was already too late.

They would just have to survive long enough for reinforcements to come and help them.

The Dark Lord saw James running away from him the moment that he entered the room and for the first time in recent history, he found himself second-guessing his recent actions. He told himself that he might have gotten the head of the Potter family in surprise if he had decided to walk – rather than apparate – toward this house.

Unfortunately, a problem within his ranks had taken some time to fix and he found himself pressed for time. For his Horcrux ritual to work – and he was planning on using the murder of the brat that was prophesized to defeat him as the sacrifice for the ritual to work – he must end the ritual – the actual transferring of the soul to the container that had been pre-selected – before midnight. It was already half-past eleven and while the Dark Lord is sure that he could defeat the Potter elders, he would not bet that he could do it as fast as he usually does.

After all, these two Potter's have faced him in the field thrice before and they always came out of the encounter with only wounds when they should be dead.

A snarl came across the face of the Dark Lord even as he raised his wand, intending to shoot the killing curse toward the back of James even as the head of the Potter family retreated, but before he could even pronounce the first syllable of the most unforgiveable of all curses, his peripheral vision caused him to throw himself to the floor.

It was the right thing to do, of course, but it still caused the Dark Lord to snarl as a massive lion – probably one thousand pounds or so in weight – arched above him. Had the Dark Lord not ducked, the claws of that lion would probably have torn his face, at the least.

Around the Dark Lord, the various furniture inside the house automatically transformed into a creature of some sort, and it was not only the large furniture – such as the sofa and the chairs – that transformed, but also the smaller objects.

Peter actually had to duck as a flight of small hummingbirds, transfigured from the various silverware in the kitchen, made a beeline straight for him. The traitorous rat fired a blasting hex at the tail of the flight, catching many of the birds and forcing them to return to their original state, but had it not been for the Dark Lord summoning him using the summoning charm, the rat would have died.

The reason for that is because while Wormtail was busy concentrating well enough to fire the blasting hex, a tiger – as big as the lion that Voldemort had evaded – jumped to attack the back of Wormtail.

The Dark Lord sent his own blasting hex toward the body of the tiger – his hex was powerful enough that the tiger not only returned to its base form, that base form was also destroyed, shattering into a thousand different pieces, and the wall behind the target was suddenly sporting a huge hole.

A cry of frustration escaped from the throat of the Dark Lord even as he turned to face another creature – this time a rhinoceros – that suddenly appeared in front of him. There was enough of an academician in the Dark Lord to express awe at the fact that the Potter elders had managed to transfigure a rhinoceros – he himself cannot do that, but that was to be expected since he is a Dark Magic user and would not spend as much time learning transfiguration as a transfiguration master like James – from a simple piece of furniture.

Hearing the cry of frustration from his position on the second floor of the safe house, a smile came across the face of James even as he hurried to the room where his son was sleeping, reasonably certain that his wife was already waiting for him there.

Coming into the room where James heard the cries of his son, he was not surprised to find Lily already waiting for him. The beautiful red-haired woman was already holding her own wand, obviously aware that their worst nightmare has come calling.

"James?" Lily asked even as James slammed the door and cast a very powerful locking charm on it.

Turning his attention toward his wife, James nodded, "Voldemort," he said, confirming the unasked question of his wife, shaking his head, he answered her second unasked question by saying, "And no, Peter not only gave the information voluntarily, we have also found our spy"

All color from the face of Lily disappeared with that news. She looked positively murderous as she processed the information that her husband had just given her and if not for the fact that the door was spelled shut, James was sure that his wife would have charged down the stairs and murdered Peter, Voldemort or not.

"I've activated the passive defenses," James replied, and saw the smile on the face of Lily, though she did not say anything.

James honestly did not mind, he has far more important things to worry about right now. Turning his attention away from the door – he was under no illusion that his most powerful locking charm could hold the Dark Lord, he was mostly relying on the transfigured animals from furniture downstairs that are menacing the Dark Lord for time – he headed straight to one of the cabinets in the room where he, his wife, and their son found themselves stuck in.

Digging deep into the baby clothes of Harry, James found exactly what he was looking for, a black plastic case. Seeing the case, his wife raised an eyebrow toward the direction of James – apparently, the fact that they have a Dark Lord on their house and bent on killing the two of them did not even dent Lily wanting to be aware of exactly what her husband is up to – and was about to voice a question before a loud banging sound from the first floor of their safe-house stopped her.

"He must have destroyed all the animals by now," James commented.

"It was a good distraction," Lily replied, agreeing with what her husband just said. She and James had constructed the spell that transformed the furniture into animals the first moment that they got to this house, with James handling the transfiguration aspect – transfiguration was his best subject – and Lily handling the charms – charms and potions were her best subjects.

The two of them knew that the transfigured and charmed creatures would not do much but delay the Dark Lord, but they had hoped that the delay would be enough for reinforcements to come – and that was Lily.

James, however, was hoping that the delay would be long enough to allow him to run to the room of his son. It was not because he wanted to die with his son and wife in his arms, but because he had hidden something in the room of Harry that he was sure would even up the odds in their favor.

Just as technology and numbers would be the best ace of the non-magical world in case the magical and non-magical worlds were to ever go to war with each other, James was planning on using numbers and technology to defeat the Dark Lord.

Opening the black plastic case, James called for the attention of Lily, instruction her to take cover. She raised one of her eyebrows toward the direction of her husband, but she still conceded, following his instructions.

He grabbed her son and moved out of the way, positioning herself behind the crib where Harry usually sleeps. The feeling of being in the arms of his mother made Harry smile even as his father retrieved a black Browning Hi-Power pistol from within the box.

Seeing the pistol on the hands of her husband – not to mention appearing to know exactly how to hold the weapon – caused Lily to raise her other eyebrow, and James was reasonably certain that Lily would be demanding an explanation sometime soon – the fact that James was holding a pistol and where he got the weapon in the first place foremost amongst the question of the inquisition, he was sure – but with a Dark Lord waiting for them, questions would have to wait for some other time.

The two Potter's paused when he heard the distinctive hissing of the Dark Lord, "Wormtail, you fool!" from the first floor of the house, followed by smaller exploding sounds. It was clear that Wormtail needed the help of his master to overcome the weak transfigured furniture that had ambushed them.

That was, however, hardly surprising, considering that Wormtail never was the most powerful mage in the school. At the age of seventeen, an eleven year old First Year student could best Wormtail in a duel, and the only reason that he passed is because of the help given to him by the other Marauders.

The sound of footsteps coming from the direction of the main staircase brought James and Lily out of their reverie – remembering exactly just how pathetic their 'friend' was – and back into the present.

Both James and Lily can feel the darkness of the Dark Lord approaching them, and when he seemed to be just outside the door, Harry decided to advertise his presence inside the room by crying, though that was probably more because of the fact that the baby sensed the malevolence of the Dark Lord.

"Your pathetic attempts at hiding would not do you any good, Potter," the Dark Lord snarled as he stood outside the room, "Stand aside, I have no intention of spilling pure – or even muggle – blood today. I only wish to kill your child"

James and Lily stared at each other, bewildered by the statement of the Dark Lord. A few moments later, however, the two older Potter's realized that the Dark Lord truly believed that James and Lily would abandon their son, just as his own father abandoned him and his mother.

Both James and Lily, however, have no intention of abandoning Harry, and in response to instructions from James, Lily crouched behind the crib of Harry even as James took position, a few degrees off of the front door, but still giving him a clear view – and a clear shot – of the door frame.

A few seconds passed, with the Dark Lord really thinking that James and Lily would abandon their child, he gave them time to evacuate, before the door was suddenly torn off of its hinges.

A powerful _bombarda_ spell from the Dark Lord not only sent the door flying, the door was actually torn into half a dozen pieces that went flying into the room. One of the bigger shards embedded itself on the crib of Harry, and had Lily not taken her son, that piece was large enough to have killed Harry.

When the smoke of the spell cleared, James had a clear oblique vision of the snarl that the Dark Lord was wearing on his face. As for the Dark Lord, since he had thought that Harry would be at the crib, he kept his vision forward. That does not mean that his peripheral vision was not working, he just decided to ignore what was there, a mistake that he would not have enough time to regret.

In any case, he failed to recognize the weapon that James was holding on his hand, and as he turned to face James – intending to snarl and insult him – James pulled the trigger.

At a muzzle velocity of more than one thousand feet per second, the Dark Lord really had no chance. The first bullet that James fired from the weapon tagged the Dark Lord just above his throat, tearing away flesh that was supposed to be resistant to magic like hot knife through butter.

Almost instantly, the Dark Lord began choking to death as his lungs began to fill with blood. Of course, James had no idea that the first bullet that he had fired was more than enough, and when faced with a man who had always boasted that he is immortal, the next actions of the head of the Potter family was logical.

James pulled the trigger of the Browning Hi-Power that he was holding in his hands several more times until all that he can hear was the sound of the hammer hitting an empty chamber.

The Dark Lord lay at the floor; unmoving and unconcerned that he was lying on a pool of his own blood. Seeing that much blood, not to mention the more than a dozen holes on his body, James was certain that the Dark Lord was already dead.

Dropping the muggle weapon on the floor, James turned his attention toward his wife and son and a relieved smile came across his face as he saw that the two of them are alright. In the commotion, Harry had fallen back asleep and Lily held him in his arms even as she pushed herself to her feet in order to get a good look at the fallen body of the Dark Lord.

Aware of the consequences of this event – not to mention the fact that James used a muggle weapon – Lily turned her attention toward her husband just as he turned his attention to hers. This action precluded the two of them from seeing a dark shade escaping from the body of the Dark Lord.

The said shade regarded the Potter's for an instant before it turned its attention toward the body from where it came from. A snarl of regret and a not so subtle sign of fear came across the face of the shade before it turned its attention away from the Potter's.

For the first time in recent memory, the Dark Lord felt fear with the way that the Potter patriarch took care of him. It was only with luck that he had found the ritual to create his soul anchors, and he knew that those soul anchors of his are the only reason that he is still in this plain of existence. If not for them, Voldemort, once the most feared Dark Wizard in Britain, was sure that he would be meeting Death right about now.

With a curse promising vengeance on the Potter family, the shade that was once the Dark Lord fled the home of the Potter's. it would take him nearly a month to reach Kent and from there, to hide away from Britain and what he was sure would be a purge of his followers.

Unaware that the spirit of the Dark Lord was fleeing from their home, James and Lily regarded each other, both silently thanking the fates that they are still alive. Without warning, the two of them threw themselves in the arms of the other; embracing each other for all that they are worth, but careful so as not to disturb their sleeping son.

"James," Lily said a few moments later after they had detached from each other's arms, she turned to regard the body of the fallen Dark Lord before she returned her attention to her husband and said, "We need to get out of here"

"I know," James said.

"Not just out of this house, James," Lily replied, shaking her head emphatically, convinced that her husband was not seeing just how important and how taboo what he just did was, "Out of Britain," she motioned to the body of the Dark Lord, "The moment that the Ministry becomes aware that you used a muggle weapon to kill Voldemort, they would come after us"

"I know, love, I know," James replied, trying to assure Lily. He sighed before he added, "We have travel documents waiting for us downstairs," he paused before he smiled, "Hopefully, they haven't been destroyed anyway"

The smile on the face of her husband was infectious and a few moments later found Lily smiling as well. Still, there are some questions that have to be answered, and though there are many of them, she decided to just ask one important question, "Where did you get the travel documents?" she asked.

James smiled, "Our goblin friends have given us the documents necessary," he replied, "We could move to anywhere we want,"

For a few moments, Lily stood in silence, her mind still trying to process the information that her husband had given her as well as appreciating his foresight. After a few moments, she just nodded before she sighed, "Alright, James, let's get out of here," before she kissed him full on the lips.

It was hardly a bribe, but James had never been one to decline a kiss from his wife. He just enjoy them without even bothering to find out the reason why they are given in the first place.

Half an hour later found the Potter family walking out of their home, with James ostensibly pulling a luggage behind him – a luggage that contained all their worldly belongings, yet despite that, weights less than a pound – and Lily carrying her son in her arms.

Stopping at the curb on the road, they flagged down a passing taxi and got onboard, completely unaware that when the driver radioed their destination to his dispatcher, there were other people listening.

With that, Imperial Intelligence in Britain became aware of not only the destruction of the Dark Lord Voldemort – which was causing Secret Intelligence Service no small amount of nightmares – but also of the fact that the apparent destroyers of this enemy of the state was fleeing.

Less than an hour after they had defeated the Dark Lord, the faces of James and Lily Potter has been distributed to every known place in the Isles that could be used to leave the country. Aware of the ability of most mages, however, Imperial Intelligence also warned those same locations to be on the lookout for Gringott's forgeries, sure that the Potter family would depend on them to get out of the British Isles.

It was now a waiting game.

**Heathrow Airport, London**

**England, British Isles**

**November 5, 1981 AE**

Carefully disguised with a moustache and with the color of his hair a shade or two lighter than usual, James tried to muster his confidence and walked as calmly as he possibly could pass two security agents that had taken position near the entrance of the airport.

Behind him, his wife Lily – also disguised, with blond hair and a different face structure – followed, pushing a cart where their son Harry – the only one who was not disguised as glamour charms do not work for children his age and since James was certain that Harry would not be recognized – was seated, laughing as he played with a toy that was given to him by his mother to calm him down.

Heathrow Airport was the largest and most obvious exit point of the British Isles. More than a million people use the airport everyday to come into and leave from the British Isles. To carry them, more than four dozen different cruise lines have set up shop in the airport and fifty different cruise airships, the primary vehicles used to transport people in the world today, depart and arrive every day.

Designed with a see-through roof, James only had to look up from where he was standing in order to see the bottom hull of one of the larger cruise airships that was marked to cross the Atlantic later today for her journey to New York.

He just hoped that there would be enough room left in that airship for him and his wife to join them, but given that most airships travel with their first-class berths only half-full – so that in case there are emergencies, they could be used – James was reasonably certain that there would be berths for him and his wife.

This is not the first time that James had been at Heathrow – his earliest mission as an auror was to escort a wanted fugitive through Heathrow since it was decided that it was safer if the wizard was to be transported using muggle methods – but this is the first time that he is here because he is going to travel.

Behind him, Lily also looked up. This was not her first time in Heathrow as well, and unlike her husband, she had travelled aboard one of the luxury airships before – albeit in second rather than first-class – but there was still something to be said about the sheer mass and size of these airships.

The attention of Lily was turned toward one corner of the airport and a frown made it across her face. A military vessel was docked at the farthest available dock of Heathrow and if the security around it were to be of any indication, it was clear that the vessel was preparing to leave as well.

From the amount of guns and the sheer size of the vessel, Lily was prepared to bet that it was one of the battleships attached to the Britannian Grand Fleet, the Britannian fleet that was relegated to guarding the British Isles, but she was confused as to what the battlewagon was doing in a civilian airport when the Grand Fleet has its own facilities, including the large Waldenstein Naval Yard in Yorkshire where they are headquartered.

Shaking her head, she told herself that it has nothing to do with her and instead decided to follow her husband as he made his way to the nearest available counter, intending to purchase three tickets so that the family can leave the British Isles.

As Lily walked to join her husband, she prayed that the passports that the goblins gave them would pass the test. The alternative was just too horrible to think about.

"Good Morning sir," the lady manning the counter smiled warmly as she greeted James. James smiled back even as the teller asked, "How can I help you today?"

"We need three tickets to the mainland, as fast as possible, first-class" James replied, the smile still on his face. He had read before that a guilty criminal trying to flee the country would not smile and would actually be nervous as he attempts to buy tickets to get out, so by playing the opposite, James hoped that he and his family can pass this security hurdle.

"Of course sir," the lady replied, her smile still as pleasant as it was in the beginning. She turned her attention toward her computer and typed a few keys, no doubt searching for a flight that would match the request of James. After a few moments, she looked back at James and replied, "We have an available trans-Atlantic cruise aboard the _Stargazer_, sir," she said, "First-class and the flight leaves in an hour, I could reserve a berth for you and your family, sir, if you wish?" she asked.

"Yes, please," James replied, unconsciously, he fished for his passport from the pocket of the coat that he was wearing, aware that that would be the next step.

"I would require your passports, sir," the lady behind the counter replied, and when James handed his passport, followed by Lily giving them hers, the lady scanned them.

A frown came across her face, but she managed to keep the frown to a minimum so that James and Lily did not notice before she discreetly pressed a red button hidden underneath her counter, summoning a pair of security officers from their office.

"Excuse me, Miss?" James asked two minutes later, certain that there was something wrong, "Is there something wrong?"

The lady behind the counter smiled warmly at him, "There was just a mix-up with the reservation sir," she replied, her voice neutral and precluding James from realizing that there was something going on.

At that moment, the two security officers that the silent alarm that the lady behind the counter summoned arrived at the counter. James and Lily saw the approaching men, and despite their attempts to remain neutral, their façade broke down when they both realized that the two men were heading toward them.

Aware that they cannot just draw wands and attempt to escape – not in this public location and not with Harry – they had no choice but to allow themselves to be taken into custody.

"Sir," the lead security officer said as he approached James. His partner approached Lily, "There seems to be a problem with your passport, sir," he said, before he inclined his head toward him and asked, "Would you care to follow us, sir?"

James fought the urge to snarl even as the security officer turned his back toward them and started walking toward their office, not even bothering to see if James would follow.

Catching up with the security officer, James found himself asking, "What seems to be the problem, officer?"

A smile came across the face of the security officer, "Nothing that we would not be able to fix with a few minutes of talking," he paused and turned to face James, allowing the Head of the Potter family to see his smile, before he added, "Mr. Potter"


End file.
